


A Comedy Of Coincidental Cures

by ShadeSwift99



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Oneshot, game mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeSwift99/pseuds/ShadeSwift99
Summary: A chance encounter involving a witch and a badly-timed golden apple "cures" ZombieCleo. She now knows the joys, troubles, and minor career crises of being a Minecraft villager. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Friendship only (Joe and Cleo)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 90





	A Comedy Of Coincidental Cures

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a nice fun fic that doesn't involve some monumental threat to the server's very existence. I realized I've developed a niche and I'm attempting to break it lol. This is the first time I've really written these two, and I think it went quite nicely!

When it came to armour stand projects, “done” was a very subjective word. There was always more detail to add, more fine adjustments to make, more possibilities to explore. As much fun as that was, it meant that “done” usually happened at the point of “Cleo is extremely tired of this and may commit a crime if she tries to work on it any more”, rather than when she was perfectly satisfied with it.

This project was rapidly approaching that point. Cleo adjusted her sagging flower crown and stood back, surveying the imposing snake that now coiled around the corner of one of the zoo buildings. She thought the blackstone scales looked quite striking against the gold accents she had used for detailing. She’d even thought to use golden apples for the eyes. She had plenty more in her inventory to pattern the sides of the creature, but now that she’d been staring at the thing for more than three hours she was much less enthusiastic about the idea.  _ Still, the look might be worth the extra work… _ She shuffled the apples between her hands, struggling to decide.

In the end, the decision was abruptly made for her. She heard the high pitched cackle a moment too late. A potion shattered at her feet, dousing her in its contents. She whirled around, squinting to see through the gathering darkness as the witch cackled again. In the rhythm of working she hadn’t even noticed the setting sun, and she found only project materials in her inventory where her sword should have been.

“Damn it, damn it,” she muttered as she dodged another potion, clawing desperately through the contents of her shulker boxes. Her arms felt heavy -  _ must have been a weakness potion _ . All she could find was approximately 6 million armour stands. No sword to be seen.

A third potion hit her square in the back and she fell forward over one of the boxes. She rolled to her feet and winced as her decaying undead muscles seized. Poison. Perfect. She was losing health fast. That was the thing you had to remember about this world - no matter how much gear the Hermits had, how much experience they’d collectively gained - almost anything turns deadly if you’re caught unaware. She dragged in a deep breath against the pain and dove for the last shulker.

“Finally!” Netherite flashed in the moonlight as she swept her sword at the witch, but another spasm prevented her from landing a solid hit. She dodged and ducked as a potion crashed against the box in front of her. This was turning out to be an irritatingly long fight, and her patience was quickly running low.

No more games. She hurriedly bit into one of the golden apples, then launched herself over the shulker with a furious growl. Invigorated by the regeneration, she swung her blade one last time and the mob exploded into harmless dust.

The first touches of sunlight began to creep over the horizon. Cleo put her sword back in its rightful place in her inventory and took a moment to catch her breath.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she muttered as she moved to gather up her shulker boxes. “Pity the old hag didn’t even drop anything good.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she grabbed the last box.

A spike of pain shot through her head, and suddenly Cleo could hardly tell up from down. All she knew was that she was shaking, and an overwhelming roar filled her ears, so loud she could barely think. She wrapped her arms around herself and waited for it to pass. It didn’t - the roar just kept going, and the headache was so intense the world seemed to waver around her.

She fumbled for her communicator, but the glowing letters of the chat hurt her eyes and she couldn’t hold a thought for long enough to type. Giving up on calling for help, she staggered toward her portal and clung to the inside of the obsidian frame. She had no destination in mind - she just had to find somebody. Anybody would have a better chance of helping her than she did right now.

She didn’t remember how she got to Joe’s place. All she could recall afterward was his startled expression as she fell through the door, and the way her veins felt like they were being scoured out with steel bristles. After that, the world transformed into a cloud of red particles, and all sound and thought slowly faded away.

\---------------------------------------------

“Well…”

A familiar Southern drawl dragged Cleo back to consciousness. She blinked hard and squinted up to see the face of Joe Hills hovering over her, looking down with a mixture of bewilderment and concern.

“I guess zombies really can break down doors. Wouldn’ta thought you’d do that though, it seems a rather inconvenient means of entry.”

Cleo groaned and rolled over. “You could have at least picked me up off the floor, you know.”

Joe winced and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Oh right, sorry. You just caught me a little off guard there with the shaking and the hissing and all. You seem okay now, though…?” He turned and started rummaging through a nearby barrel. “I’ll get you some food, just in case -”

“It’s - it’s fine, I don’t think I need it….” Cleo put a hand on the blackstone wall of Joe’s base and pulled herself to her feet. “I’m feeling mostly better now, I don’t really know what happened…”

Joe turned from the barrel to check her over. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know my delivering you that many armour stands would give you an actual breakdown,” he chuckled. “Here, take the berries anyway, I’ve got lots.’

“That’s one thing for sure.” She leaned against the wall and munched on a cluster of sweet berries. “And I don’t think it was the armour stands, I already had that particular breakdown earlier.”

“You don’t think six million armour stands can produce more than one breakdow -” He cut off abruptly and stared at her with slowly increasing horror.

“What?”

“Uh…” Joe’s voice shifted to a calming, tactful tone. “Well, Cleo, it’s nothing  _ bad _ or anything, necessarily…”

Cleo’s eyes narrowed. “Get to the point, Joe, or I’ll break your legs again. What’s wrong?”

“Well...you look a little different than before.”

Cleo’s stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Um, what exactly happened to you? Before you came here?”

“A witch threw some potions at me, and I had a golden apple….” Cleo was very quickly developing a sinking feeling. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Joe nodded solemnly, but his eyes were starting to spark with barely controlled laughter. “I’m guessing one was a weakness potion?”

“Cut it out! It’s not funny, it’s a serious problem - “ Cleo caught a glimpse of her reflection in a windowpane and gasped. “Oh my god…”

Joe couldn’t contain himself any more and burst out laughing. “It’s okay, I don’t know why I’m so surprised, that’s exactly what’s supposed to happen when you cure a zombie. Don’t worry, the nose suits you…!”

Cleo gave him a hearty punch in the arm and turned back to the window. She stared into the glass and slowly ran a hand down her cheek. Her skin felt warm. She hadn’t felt warm in years. Her cheeks were unsunken and in good repair, no teeth or tendons showing through, and her hair was no longer falling out. The overwhelming need to breathe filled her in every second, and she could hear her pulse beating through her ears. She was a villager. A  _ living _ villager.

She wasn’t sure she liked it. It felt too fragile and breakable somehow, the fact of being alive. It brought back too many memories.

Joe had picked up on her change of mood and calmed down, stepping up beside her and laying a hand on her shoulder. He glanced over at her, trying to judge her state of mind without being too intrusive. She felt a sudden rush of relief that his was the doorstep she’d ended up on.

“Do you feel any different?”

She broke out of her self-examination and considered. “Hmm. Well...not really, no. I think I’m still me either way, just this me has the irritating chore of breathing every so often.” She forced out a chuckle that she only half felt.

“So you want to go back?”

She denied herself another look in the glass. “Hmm. Yes, definitely.”

Joe cracked a slight smile again. “You keep saying hmm…”

“Oh - shut up!” What was left of her sadness evaporated under Joe’s teasing. Cleo huffed in mock offense and smacked him again. “It’s not because I’m a villager now, I just - I’ve always said that! Always!” She pushed away from the wall and marched across the room to Joe’s barrels. “Now, do you have anything here that could possibly help me?”

Joe trailed after her. “Well, we could ask Xisuma to do something about it. I’m sure there’s a command for ‘re-zombify villager lady with anger issues’.”

“I - I almost smacked you again for that one, but I think that would be rather proving your point,” Cleo gave up grudgingly. “And I’m not asking X or anyone else about it, because then they have to  _ see _ me like this - !”

“You think  _ Stridesuma _ is going to judge you for having a weird face?”

“True,” Cleo snickered. “Still, I think this is one we can deal with ourselves. How hard could it be to turn me back again?”

“Well…” Joe tapped his fingers thoughtfully. “If we’re trying to exhaust all options here, technically there’s the way you became a zombie in the first place….”

Cleo stiffened. “No. Off the table. We’re not doing that again.”

“Fair. Hmmm...we could make you a zombie-looking body out of armour stands and you could try and possess it?”

Cleo abandoned her search in the barrel. “I feel like there’s an easier solution than learning how to possess armour stands, although I’ll make a note of that for later because that definitely sounds worth learning.”

“Well, I guess the boring way would be to just get killed by a zombie?”

“Hmm. Yes, that seems most likely to work.” Cleo paused, letting her mind wander for a second.

“Hey Joe?”

Joe jumped, startled out of his own thoughtful pause. “Yeah?”

“Do you want one emerald for twenty string?”

“Do I - what?”

Cleo buried her face in her hands and burst out laughing. “Why did I  _ say _ that…so maybe I lied a bit about not feeling different….”

“It must be all these barrels I’ve got here. Are you sure you don’t want to stay as a fisherwoman? I’ve heard it’s a very fulfilling career,” Joe giggled.

Cleo grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out the door. “We’re finding a zombie. Quickly, before one of the others decides to use me as bait for an iron farm!”

\---------------------------------------------

_ <joehillssays> no sleep please _

_ <BdoubleO100> :( _

_ <VillagerCleo> sorry but we really need night for a bit _

_ <BdoubleO100> VillagerCleo??? _

_ <joehillssays> ...just don’t ask _

Cleo put away her communicator and went back to pacing nervously beneath the trees. The forest near Joe’s winery was more than dark enough to let monsters spawn, so they should be able to find a zombie easily. Quickly, she hoped, before anything else could emerge from the darkness and attack them. Even though they were actively looking for mobs right now, allowing it to stay dark like this still made her nervous after the incident last night.

“Any sign of zombies yet?”

Joe surveyed the landscape, sword in hand. “No, just creepers. I hope they don’t get too close.”

“They do tend to...creep up on you.”

“Fascinating. It seems that being alive did not bring any additional vitality to your sense of humour.” The corner of Joe’s mouth lifted in that specially irritating way, and he hurriedly stepped out of smacking range.

Cleo’s sarcastic comeback was interrupted by a low groan from the treeline. Joe shouted and dodged as a zombie shambled from the shadows towards them. Its clouded eyes were focused on him, until Cleo darted forward and drew its attention.

“Come on, you smelly old thing,” she shouted. “Come and get me!”

She resisted the suddenly overwhelming urge to run and closed her eyes.

_ <VillagerCleo> was slain by Zombie _

\---------------------------------------------

Cleo sat bolt upright in her bed, looking around wildly. She took in the walls, floor, and comforting lantern light of one of her zoo buildings, and realised that she must have respawned. The events of the last day came back to her in a sudden rush.  _ Did it work? _ She could hardly bring herself to check.

Slowly, she raised her hand and ran it over her coarse, tangled hair. Her fingers trailed down her sunken cheeks, across her jutting jaw. It had worked. She was undead once more.

She had expected to feel a pang of sadness at losing life for the second time, but all she felt was a bone-deep relief. This was who she was - the form she had spent so long adjusting to after the incident, the self she had worked so hard to accept and even love. To go back would be losing all of that, denying how far she’d come and how hard won those victories were. She was ZombieCleo, and she was happy.

And, she no longer felt like trading fish to the other Hermits. That was worth a bit of gratitude, too.

Her communicator pinged, and she reached for it.

_ <joehillssays> did it work? _

_ <ZombieCleo> yeah _

_ <ZombieCleo> thank you so much _

_ <BdoubleO100> can I pls sleep now, losin it over here! _

_ <joehillssays> sure, go ahead _

_ <ZombieCleo> hey joe? _

_ <ZombieCleo> maybe we can talk about reducing your debt to 5 million armour stands _

_ <ZombieCleo> as a thank you _

_ <joehillssays> your boundless kindness continues to amaze me _

_ <ZombieCleo> or 5.5 million _

_ <ZombieCleo> don’t want to get too extreme _

Cleo tucked away the communicator and grinned. Leaving the bed, she walked to the doorway and gazed out at the sun rising over the massive arch of the zoo. The golden eyes of the snake glimmered in the morning glow. On second thought, maybe she did have the patience to add those extra apples.

She was definitely going to bring a bed to the project site this time, though. Cleo would not be surprised the same way twice.


End file.
